


I Wanna—

by GarnetsAndRoses



Series: Drabble/Ficlet Collection [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alexis | Quackity-centric, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Crynamics, Family Dynamics, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Short One Shot, Talking, awesamdad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetsAndRoses/pseuds/GarnetsAndRoses
Summary: Do you ever think, "I want to go home," even though you’re home?Quackity thinks.In fact, he should probably stop.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude
Series: Drabble/Ficlet Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214897
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	I Wanna—

Do you ever think, _I want to go home_ , even though you’re home? There’s no reason to miss it so, feel that bare ache in your chest, wonder why that thing you thought to grab is gone and you’re sitting there on your flat ass wondering why you can’t have it back, like a toy, or a fistful of cash, or a frail grasp on someone’s sleeve—

Quackity sobs and collapses into Sam’s chest. A stone doorstep beneath him swims through a sea of tears. “Sam, I w- I wanna go _home_.”

Sam grabs onto Quackity, tugs him inside, has to almost drag him somewhere that Quackity doesn’t recognize until he’s there.

“I wanna go home,” Quackity chokes out, even though it’s his own bedroom blurring around him and his own bed he’s getting tucked into and his own father holding him close through crisp blankets.

“Shh,” Sam murmurs. He draws Quackity close to his chest, running his fingers through hair that would be covered if Quackity had cared any more than not at all. “It’s okay, Q, it’s okay.”

Quackity keeps mewling into Sam’s sweater, making those tiny-frail kitten mewls because he can’t seem to say anything other than “I want to go home, I hurt ‘im, _I messed up_ ” in between gasps for air.

“S’okay,” repeats Sam. Even as Quackity buries his face in his sleeve, smearing snot across the fabric, Sam holds his elbow there and continues brushing strands of hair away from his son’s teary eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, Sam! It’s not. Sam, Dad, _Dad_ , I messed up, Dad. I messed up so bad.”

Brushing one hand across Quackity’s face through the trickles of blood and tears, Sam whispers, “You know I still love you, right?” His thumb lingers on a familiar spider nevus beneath a milky-blue eye.

Quackity wails something that devolves into insubstantiality, pressing up against Sam. Like maybe if he can’t hear that steady heartbeat, he can’t find that warmth he’s needed ever since he started chilling his soul with whiskey on the rocks.

“I love you,” says his father softly. He presses a kiss to Quackity’s forehead, his lips coming away with the same red-iron sheen as the congealment that’s dripped its way down Quackity’s jacket.

As he weeps harder and sinks into the gentle embrace and the petting of crumpled wings, Quackity wonders why he can’t think of his home as home. His heart is still in the White House, retched up into a wastebasket, left untouched like the shed fur clutching to couch cushions and sloppily-knotted ties hung ready in closets and a final opened bottle of champagne that will have evaporated in the months it took to leave a permanent arc on the Oval Office’s desk.

The blood doesn’t come out of Sam’s sweater.

**Author's Note:**

> eyyyy this is only awesamdad i know, who tf are the benchtrio /j /lh
> 
> hopefully you enjoyed this ficlet! kudos and comments are poggers <3


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